The Choice: The Pocket Watch Chronicles

by Ceci Giltenan

  “I’ll go with you to your home, but Sara isn’t at her apartment. She finished the book and decided to go shopping for a while.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “I don’t know.” Ben frowned trying to remember. “No wait, she said ‘the mall’, whatever that is.”

  Samuel shook his head. “Ben, a mall is a group of stores all in one huge building and there are at least six malls in the area. Columbia, Annapolis, White Marsh, Towson. She could be anywhere.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t think to ask her.”

  “It’s okay. I sometimes forget that you are new to all of this.”

  “I’ll call her if you want me to. But last I checked, she was enjoying herself. I hate to ruin the first afternoon she has taken off in weeks.”

  Samuel arched an eyebrow at him. “She worked through the weekend?”

  Ben laughed. “Well, no. But still, she’s been pushing herself pretty hard.”

  Samuel shook his head. “I’m probably just overreacting anyway. Let her enjoy herself.”

  But Samuel remained tense and on edge all afternoon until the police finally notified him that the building was clear. “Well, Ben, apparently everything checked out. The police will continue to investigate to see if they can find out who was behind it.”

  “That’s good news. What did he say when you asked if it could have been a Talbot & Company employee?”

  “He said it was possible, but not likely. It could have been anyone. The packages were in areas that the public can freely access. The police think it was most likely some bored sicko who enjoys watching the chaos they create.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. But since everything is okay, I’d like to go back to Sara’s. We were going out tonight to celebrate the completion of her new book.”

  A look of concern crossed his face. Ben was struck again by how deeply he had been affected by the tragedy of losing his wife and son. Worry that something like that could happen again was evidently never far from his mind.

  “Dad, if you’re still worried, it’s okay. I can call Sara and tell her to come here or meet me at the condo.”

  “No, I’m being silly. I need to stop making such a big deal out of something the police think was probably random. Go on. Take your talented wife out for dinner.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As he was being driven to Sara’s, Ben called her cellphone but she still didn’t answer. He texted.

  I’m on my way home now. See you in a few minutes.

  She didn’t return his text.

  When they arrived, her car wasn’t parked in its usual spot. She must still be shopping.

  He went in and tried calling her again but again the call went straight to voicemail, so he sent another text.

  I’m home now. Think about where you want to go for dinner. See you soon.

  He took a quick shower. When he was done and dressed, he checked his cell phone again. It was nearly seven o’clock and she still hadn’t responded to his text messages. But there was a missed call from Mark, of all people, and a new message. He listened to it.

  “Hey, Ben, I need to see you right away about something. I don’t know if you are at your condo or Sara’s. I’m closer to her apartment, I’ll head there first. If that’s not where you are, call me.”

  Now he was worried. He tried Sara’s cell again and once again it went to voice mail. “Damn it, Sara, why aren’t you picking up. Call me as soon as you get this.”

  Bam. Bam. Bam. Someone pounded on the door.

  When he opened it, Mark charged in.

  “What the hell?”

  “Ben, I’m sorry man, but this is bad.” He had an envelope in his hand. “When I got home from work, this was stuck to my door. I called you as soon as I opened it.”

  “What is it?”

  Mark handed it to him. “It’s a ransom demand. Someone has kidnapped Sara.”

  Ben pulled the contents from the envelope. There was a note, written in block letters. He scanned the note, which was written by hand in block letters:

  I HAVE SARA WELLS. SHE IS ALIVE…FOR NOW. FOLLOW these INSTRUCTIONS IF YOU WANT HER TO THAT WAY.

  DO NOT INFORM ANY law enforcement AGENCY OR PRIVATE SECURITY COMPANY. I WILL KNOW AND KILL HER INSTANTLY.

  When you receive this message call 410-555-6450 from a cell phone. I will send you proof that I have her.

  by noon tomorrow get ONE MILLION dollars IN UNMARKED $100 BILLS.

  put the money INTO TWO IDENTICAL DUFFEL BAGS.

  I WILL CALL YOU AT TEN AM WITH FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.

  Ben simply gaped at the letter. “She’s been kidnapped?”

  “It looks that way. I called the number and this is what they sent me.” He pulled out his phone and showed Ben a photo of Sara, tied to a bedframe, with a copy of the Catonsville Chronicle next to her head.

  “Why was the letter delivered to you?”

  “Christ, Ben, where else would they deliver it? She doesn’t have a family and you’ve kept your relationship to her on the down low. Because of that, I haven’t exactly broadcast the fact that she isn’t my girlfriend anymore.”

  Ben didn’t know what to do. Instinctively, he reached for the phone to call Samuel.

  “Who are you calling?” demanded Mark.

  “My father. He’d want to know this.”

  Mark snatched the phone from his hand before Ben could complete the call. “Are you crazy? The note said not to tell anyone. You could get her killed.”

  Ben snatched his phone back. “The note said not to call any law enforcement agency. My father isn’t a police officer.”

  “Yeah, but if you call him, he will put his private security on it immediately. You know he will. He’ll believe the kidnapper was bluffing about knowing if we call someone.”

  “And rightfully so. How can they possibly know?”

  “I don’t know. Illegal wire taps? Surveillance equipment?”

  “But it’s like you said, they don’t even know we’re together. If they are monitoring anyone, it’s you.”

  “Are you willing to risk Sara’s life on that?”

  Ben frowned. “No.”

  “Then don’t call your dad yet. Let’s think this through first. A million dollars isn’t all that much in the grand scheme of things. You’ve got billions.”

  “No, Mark, I don’t.”

  “Of course, you do.”

  Ben shook his head in frustration. “No. I. Don’t. After my head injury and memory loss, my father was rightly concerned about my ability to handle money. He has removed my access to all family funds. I have some money in the bank but not anywhere close to a million.”

  “Sara does. She was awarded three million in the wrongful death suit.”

  “I know that but it’s not in our bank account. Besides if I understood her correctly, she invested most of it in apples.”

  “Apples? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. She said she bought apples at one eighty.”

  “Apples at one eighty?”

  “That’s what she said. Apparently, she was upset at the time. She called it ‘blood money’ and didn’t want it, so she did a—I think she called it a Forrest Gump? Anyway, she put it in apples.”

  “Wait, do you mean Apple? The company? Did she sink all of that money into Apple stock?”

  “Maybe that’s what she meant.”

  “Holy shit. I never asked her what she did with it. Apple has skyrocketed. If she invested three million at a dollar eighty, she’s worth at least five times that.”

  “She could be worth a billion dollars and it wouldn’t matter. I don’t have access to it.”

  “Well, I can probably get a million in cash tomorrow. It might just be best to go along with the kidnapper if it means keeping her safe.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of just sitting around until tomorrow. I really think we should call my father. Maybe there’s a clue
in the picture. Where is Catonsville anyway?

  “It’s not far away. I doubt they’re holding her in Catonsville, though. They just used that paper as proof-of-life.”

  “Proof-of-life?”

  “Yeah.” Mark pulled the photo up on his phone again. He zoomed into the image and pointed to it. “See, it has today’s date. It’s a little weekly paper that hits the stands early on Thursday afternoons. It’s in the picture to prove that Sara was alive this afternoon.” Mark frowned and looked more closely at the enlarged photo. “Wait a minute. I’ve seen that bed before. That bed is in Slater’s lodge. You remember, Carl Slater’s family hunting lodge.”

  “No, Mark, I don’t.” He pointed to his temple. “Head injury, remember?”

  “Oh, right, sorry. We went to prep school with Carl. His family owns a hunting lodge a few hours away in the mountains of western Maryland. In the summer, a bunch of us would sneak up there to drink and hang out. You’d tell your dad we were going sailing for the weekend. So we’d sail out of the yacht club in Essex, down the Back River to the Chesapeake, and up the Patapsco to the marina at Fells Point where one of us had left a car. Then west to the mountains and the freedom of a wasted weekend of drinking and debauchery.”

  A wasted weekend? Ben shook his head. When he was a teenager, he worked long hours, six days a week as an apprentice to a ship builder. Then his father died when he was eighteen, leaving Ben with a growing business to help run. “If you only spent wasted weekends there, what makes you so sure it’s the same bed?”

  “Trust me. I know it’s the same bed. I recognize the antique iron frame.”

  “It’s just a bed frame and I wouldn’t say it’s particularly memorable.”

  “Perhaps not to most people, but see the urn painted on the headboard? I’ll never forget that. It’s burned in my memory forever.”

  “Give me a break.”

  “No, I’m serious. I was trying to get in some girl’s panties. I’d gotten her all the way to the bed, but couldn’t get off second base.”

  “Second base?”

  Mark groaned in exasperation. “She let me kiss her and play with her tits, but that was it. Anyway, I saw the image of the Grecian urn on the headboard. I thought I’d pour a little poetry on her and make her think I was cultured and romantic. It was her first time. Mine, too, for that matter, but a few lines from Ode on a Grecian Urn and she melted.”

  “Ode on a Grecian Urn?”

  “Yeah. You know, the poem by Keats. ‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’”

  “Who is Keats?”

  “Damn Benjamin, your memory does suck. We had that loopy English teacher who spent two weeks analyzing that shit. Anyway, it got me laid, so I shouldn’t knock it. But I will never forget that bed.”

  “Surely it was a mass-produced item. There could be thousands of them around the country.”

  “I suppose there could be. But it’s an antique so there probably aren’t loads of them left in use. Plus, it’s a little too much of a coincidence that Sara would be held captive on a bed just like one that’s in a house owned by someone in our circle of friends.”

  “You think this Carl person kidnapped her?”

  “It has to be him.”

  “But why?”

  “I’m not sure. I do know he was going through a rough patch financially. He has a lot of wealth tied up in real estate and the market is dropping. He must really be in a bad spot financially to resort to this.” Mark shook his head. “He has a family too. This will be devastating. Kidnapping is a felony and he could go away for thirty years.”

  “Go away? If he kidnapped Sara, I want him to go away.”

  “I mean serious jail time. That would be tragic.”

  Ben was incredulous. “He has kidnapped my wife.”

  “I know that. But maybe we could go up to the old lodge and just talk to him.”

  “What if you’re wrong and we go haring up there? Does my dad know the Slaters? Maybe we should run this past him now that we think we know who’s behind it.”

  “I’m telling you, your dad will bring in the authorities and we can’t risk that. Besides, Carl’s a decent guy. If he did this, he’s desperate. Maybe we can just talk to him and offer him help. Once he knows we know who did it, he can’t go through with it. Hell, he might not even be at the lodge. We could just go there, make sure Sara’s safe, and then decide what to do.”

  Ben shook his head. In his time, he would have taken the matter into his own hands and done exactly what Mark was proposing, but things were different here. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Look, Benjamin, we don’t have a lot of choices. If we bring the cops into this, we risk cornering him and he might kill her. We’re old friends. I think we stand a better chance of keeping Sara safe if we just handle it quietly.”

  Ben wasn’t completely convinced, but he couldn’t just sit and wait for morning. “Fine. Let’s go.” He strode toward the door.

  Mark followed. “You drive, I’ll navigate.”

  “You drive.” Benjamin was still mastering driving and he didn’t have a car here anyway.

  “Are you serious? You never let anyone else drive, unless it’s one of your professional driver-bodyguard types. What, did you forget how to drive or something?”

  Ben scowled at him. “Don’t be an idiot. Just drive.”

  Chapter 18 – What if I Fall in Love?

  Sara opened her eyes. The room was dark and she felt as if her brain were encased in a heavy fog and she couldn’t quite process what was happening. She tried to rub her eyes, but couldn’t move her arms. They were tied, over her head, to the iron head board. Her feet were also bound to the foot of the bedframe.

  Tied up? What the hell?

  She tugged at the ropes, but that only caused them to dig into her wrists.

  How had she gotten here? She closed her eyes and tried to focus on clearing her head and remembering what had happened. But she just couldn’t make sense of things.

  Okay. Go back to something you can remember. The book. She had finished the book. And she remembered driving to the mall to do a little shopping and treat herself to a cinnamon bun. But then what?

  Daphne.

  She had run into Daphne who insisted on joining her at Mrs. Cinnamon’s. She couldn’t remember anything after that. It was as if she had just fallen asleep. Fade to black. Nothing.

  Think, Sara. How did you get here?

  It had to be Daphne, so Sara tried to focus on her, but all she could remember was sitting in the food court with her. Then, another foggy image floated to her. Daphne helping her out of the car and into a house. Into a bed. Taking a picture. Taking a picture?

  “Hold the paper up and smile Sara. We don’t want to get your bad side.”

  The unexpected flash from Daphne’s cell phone had nearly blinded her.

  “Why?” was all that Sara had said at the time.

  “Oh, darling, I need a proof of life photo.”

  “Proof of…”

  “Life. Yes. You see, I’ll need to be able to send it once the ransom note has been found. Now, I just need to make sure these ropes are nice and snug. I’m going out for a while. I need to get off this mountain to make sure I have enough signal to send the photo when the time comes. And God knows, if you wake up while I’m away, I can’t have you wandering off.”

  When that had happened, Sara couldn’t have fought even if she hadn’t been tied up. She could barely move. But the word “ransom” had crystalized in her thoughts. It hadn’t made sense to her at the time. Daphne was wealthy. Still, Sara remembered asking, “Do you need money? I can give you—”

  But Daphne cut her off. “I don’t want your money and I wouldn’t need it if you hadn’t interfered.”

  “Then why?”

  “You have ruined everything for me. You ruined my chances with Benjamin and now Mark is gone, too. You are the cause of all of my problems and I want you dead
.”

  “Why the ransom then?”

  “Because, people will believe it. They will believe you were kidnapped to squeeze money from Benjamin Talbot. Unfortunately, when they deliver the ransom, there will be no one to take it and no sweet Miss Wells to be returned. Because as soon as I’m sure no more proof of life photos are needed, I’m going to kill you and simply go back to Baltimore. No one will know. Hell, they probably won’t even find your body for months.”

  “Where are we?”

  “This is a hunting lodge that belongs to the family of an old friend of ours—I mean Mark and Ben and me. We all came here years ago to drink and hang out. No one will think to look here. In fact, it’s likely that no one will come here for a couple months, not until deer season. And the best part is, when they find you, everyone will think Mark did it.”

  Sara remembered trying to figure out why Mark would be blamed, but she couldn’t seem to prise another memory from her befuddled brain. She turned her attention to her restraints. She tried again to loosen them, twisting and pulling with a new urgency. If she didn’t free herself, she had little doubt that Daphne would kill her.

  She hadn’t been at it long when the door opened and the bright overhead light was switched on.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” said Daphne from the doorway. She held a gun loosely in one hand. “It’s late. I thought you were never going to sleep it off.”

  “Sleep it off? What did you give me.”

  “A roofie.”

  “A roofie? Rohypnol?”

  “Yup. And I understand now why guys use it to commit rape. You were practically comatose. I was barely able to get you out of the car.”

  “You just happened to have a roofie with you when you ran into me at the mall?”

  “Of course not. I followed you to the mall. I had planned to do this a couple days ago. I was going to run into you at the health club and chat over juice, but you haven’t been out of the house.”

  “You’ve had this planned for days? Dear God, why?”